“If you need to stop an asteroid, you call Superman. If you need to solve a mystery, you call Batman. But if you need to end a war, you call Wonder Woman.”
― Gail Simone
They say people in San Francisco used to fear earthquakes when they felt their apartments shaking, Vases toppling, ceramic plates crashing, animals leaving mysteriously--it’s an interesting idea to consider. It’s romantic to think all people used to rely on was the weatherman for tornados and hurricanes. The source of these disturbance now is mostly the Supers who are defending us against everything--natural disasters, wars, other Supers. Super is basically an all encompassing term for anyone who has some kind of supernatural ability--physical ability that is. The stuff people used to dream about.
Alia was not a Super, unfortunately,
She did not live in Sky City--the domain of superheroes and supervillains. She couldn’t fly to retrieve her laptop from the charger port. Alia didn’t wear glasses to control her heat vision, she wore then for her abysmal eyesight. Her physical attributes were painfully limited as she had learned from gym class shame. She lived in a rundown 1980s apartment building in downtown SF. A place where the only thing sky high was the property damage insurance. Her super powers mostly consisted of being incredibly allergic to almost about everything. And idolizing her heroes. The supers who didn’t act like their genetics made them gods.
This veneration was most obvious in her bedroom where they dominated her walls--in posters and magazine clippings. There were quotes painted on newsprint which was then tacked onto the wall in an effort for no inch of the room to be blank. Clothes that littered the floor were covered in logos and graphics of the geek origin. Even the vanity counter held an assortment of superhero themed cosmetics and skincare.
The bed, on the other hand, was dominated by a slanted bulge whereon perched two white puffs that once the ears perked could be distinguished as a pair of house cats. Both of which were quite concerned about their owner, Alia, who was sweating profusely and choking in her own sheets. Tremors ran through her body like she was being electrocuted.
She’d been sucked into her darker days. Things she’d like to forget
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